the moments fade
by vanilluxe
Summary: The memories disappear before the photographs. Two hundred stories.
1. Gift

**Prompt: **Gift  
**Originally Written: **10.19.2008  
**Notes: **I'm afraid that the stories from December and earlier are lacking in quality, but I'm putting them here for the sake of completion.

The Fey history was not a pleasant one by any standards whatsoever. The murders, the shame, the lies and deceit…they all added to the sum of dirt that soiled their history.

Phoenix still doesn't know why he chooses to associate with them, but he figures that the damage is already done and that family has become an indelible part of his life. He still doesn't know if he regrets anything. When he thinks back to how it came to this, it's like watching a black and white movie slowly come to life with color as the plot moves along. From Dahlia and Iris to Mia, from Mia to Maya, Maya to Pearl, his name has been there with the Feys from the very beginning.

They're so different from one another, it's almost unbelievable. Mia was the leader, the woman who grabbed life by the horns and took charge; Phoenix's mentor. Her sister was the bubbly but determined girl who somehow became his assistant, and there was the adorable little cousin Pearls whom he looked after like a daughter. Dahlia and Iris were by no means interchangeable, but they both stemmed from the same ground, and he couldn't bring himself to forget that. Even if Iris was the lesser of two evils, she willingly followed Dahlia and did her bidding. Was she really that weak hearted?

He dwells upon this, but he can't come to any form of a logical conclusion. The Feys are an interesting breed, but he still knows that no matter what, they will always bring him good fortune in the end, and he couldn't be happier.

And this is the only reason he smiles; because he loves that family more than anything else.


	2. Shattered

**Prompt: **Broken  
**Character(s): **Adrian Andrews  
**Originally Written: **11.17.2009

Oh, how broken she was indeed.

Smiles are very easy to fake; it's just the upturn of the lips, a false display of satisfaction or happiness. She's healing, to be sure, but no one will truly know how she'll never be the same.

It was almost like watching a nightmare come to life, her worst fears confirmed. She truly, deeply believed that she was going to die during that trial. Whether she was going to be sentenced or targeted by de Killer, she knew that her life would either be gone…

…Or never be the same again.

This was a second chance to start a new life. But she still can't help but turn around when she's walking at home, just to see if she's being followed. She can't help but check the locks just a few more times to see if they're in place. She'll never be able to stop looking in all the rooms, turning them upside down to see if someone's hiding behind the curtains or in the closet.

And when she looks at Phoenix Wright and his determination, Franziska von Karma and her tenacity, she wants nothing more to be like them. And still, that knowledge that she is weak and always will be nags at her, deterring her from even trying.

Time may heal all wounds, but it can't glue the pieces back together.


	3. Phone Calls

**Prompt: **Phone Call  
**Character(s): **Miles Edgeworth, Phoenix Wright  
**Originally Written: **11.18.2009

Edgeworth stared at the caller ID with nothing short of animosity. This was the fifth time he had seen Wright's ID come up.

He considered not answering, since all the other times were merely pranks, but thinking of the 'boy who cried wolf' scenario made him pick it up.

"What, Wright? What could you possibly want for a fifth time?"

"No, really, Edgeworth; it's important this time," he reassured.

A sigh. "What?"

"It has nothing to do with condoms again, I promise."

"It had better not be, Wright."

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. "…Is your refrigerator running?"

"What?"

"Well, you better go catch it!"

Edgeworth was left completely dumbfounded.


	4. Flutter

**Prompt: **"Flutter" by Averi  
**Character(s): **Apollo Justice, implied Apollo/Trucy  
**Originally Written: **12.28.2008

"_I've got your number in my pocket,  
But I don't think I can call it, ever  
I couldn't stand to start to frequent  
These walks at the break of morning, if I did."_

Apollo doesn't regret many things.

He's made a lot of blunders, but when he looks back on them, he realizes that they helped shape him into who is now. None of them were particularly dire or affected anyone other than himself. So he chooses to move on rather than dwell on things that can't be fixed.

But he realizes now that he's made an irreversible mistake, one that by no means could be erased. Things would never be the same between him and Trucy, no matter how much they wanted to put everything that happened behind them. They'd never be able to look at each other, they'd never be able to talk without feeling the weight of their actions.

Apollo would like to think that he's mature, but he will never forgive himself for being so irresponsible. It was strange how things had worked out. It would've made more sense for it to happen before Phoenix told them about their relationship, but for some reason or the next, it only made it more enticing to them. It was wrong in every sense of the word, but it had felt so inexplicably right.

It's five in the morning, and he doesn't know why he's choosing now to think about the possible—no, _inevitable_—repercussions of the things he's done. The more he thinks about it, the more he wants to be cornered, faced with the fact that the wrong he's done can't be fixed by a simple apology. If it could be fixed at all, that is.

It would be simple, he figures. All he could do was pick up the phone and apologize, because he ran like hell the last time they were together. It wasn't as though she'd be expecting it, either; she was under the impression that he wouldn't talk to her again. Then again, she hadn't taken the time to ask how he was, either. College was finally baring its teeth.

The word resonates within him, a bitter reminder of the years he used to spend there. He was almost four years out of college, and she was just starting. He almost cringes when he thinks about this. She's old enough to make her own decisions, but he still has painful flashbacks to three years before, when they were nothing more than friends. They were oblivious, maybe even innocent.

That was all gone, though.

He wants to call her. He aches to hear her voice, her reassurance that he hasn't done anything wrong. But he knows that if he does pick up that phone and wait for her to answer, he'll keep calling. He'll be in too deep before he knows it, and he'll be back on the same road that he's struggling to get off of.

The last thing Apollo wants to do is hurt her again. If he's going to do this, he can't run away anymore. If this is really what he wants, he needs to face the consequences.

Why couldn't he be normal? Was it so hard to fall for someone he wasn't related to?

He can easily answer that. It's because she permeates blood relations. She permeates every societal norm that was ever established. She is her own person, with her own sets of rules for living. He wishes so much he could be like her. He loves that she doesn't care about what people think of her, and that she thinks so highly of herself. He wants confidence like hers.

Just because she's everything Apollo isn't, though, doesn't mean he wants her only to illuminate his own qualities.

They just complement each other. There isn't any other way to put it, and that doesn't even begin to describe the way they meld together so easily. He doesn't know if she feels the same way, but that doesn't matter much anymore. This isn't comparable to a high school crush, where one's feelings relied on reciprocation.

Apollo had never been more sure of anything in his entire life—even more so than his decision to become a lawyer. It was a shame that this feeling was wrong. Yet, he couldn't help but feel that this was right—more just than anything he's done in his short life.

All he can do for now is hope that maybe things will turn out the way he wants them to.

Sleep had been impossible. It was better to mull over the things he had been cleverly dodging for one night than let them consume him. He's only twenty-five, though. He has his whole life to live.

What good was his life if it was condemned to misery?

He sighs dramatically, scrutinizing the piece of paper in his hand. The numbers are burned into his memory, and the only reason he's kept it until now is because it's her handwriting, the insane, rushed scribbling of almost incoherent numbers.

He looks at the river beneath him, and opens the palm of his hand, allowing the paper to flutter into the water.

It will never mean anything.


	5. Wrong

**Prompt: **We Shouldn't  
**Character(s): **Lana Skye/Mia Fey  
**Originally Written: **1.07.2009

They shouldn't.

Lana knows this, of course. Her parents had actively condemned the 'queers' while they were alive which was partially why she managed to delude herself into loving men.

But she never did love them. She couldn't force something like that, and it wasn't fair that she had to. Still, the principle that gays weren't worthy of a normal life was hardwired into her mind, and it would forever lead to her feeling guilty.

With Mia, it was different.

Their relationship had been curt, at most, during the first half of their freshman year at law school. Looking back, it was mostly Lana's fault for this perceived gulf in communication, as she continually rejected Mia's invitations of anything pertaining to a social life. Mia had simply smiled and said she understood, as though she didn't see any hint of elitism in her superior's dismissals.

Eventually, Lana allowed herself the indulgence of going with Mia one day, and it certainly got the ball rolling from there on out., and she felt an indescribable change within her. It was as though the girl two years her junior—the same girl who tripped over her own high heels and didn't look where she was going—was the piece of the puzzle that had been missing from Lana's life. With her, Lana felt _whole_. _Complete_.

With Mia Fey, she felt invincible.

And yet, when she discovered that the feeling was mutual, she couldn't let herself be happy. She couldn't do that to her parents' souls, to her _sister_.

Because no matter what kind of euphoric feelings it dispensed, it was still wrong in her mind.


	6. Iustitia

**Prompt: **Justice  
**Character(s): **Franziska von Karma  
**Originally Written: **1.19.2009

Franziska von Karma looks back now and realizes that she was painfully blind to the real workings of the world.

Then again, no one could blame her in full. She was raised to place justice at the bottom of the slush pile when it came to being a prosecutor. The von Karmas always won, and that was the only thing they cared about.

She supposes her superficial purposes had started to falter after the Matt Engarde case, but the clincher had been Hazakurain. The intricate web that had been woven from a single act alone was absolutely incredible, but more there was more than that—the emotions laced within. This was not simply about a verdict; it was about deliverance from a case that had been in the making for years.

That case changed her life, but she must occasionally look at what happened before that.

* * *

_"You've soiled the von Karma name and dragged it through the mud. Run away with your tail between your legs like the ill-bred dog you are!"_

That's what she had said to Miles Edgeworth after he returned from his supposed 'death.' In her frame of mind, what else was she supposed to say to him that didn't make her look like a fool?

He had a talent of turning things around to make everything turn out in his favor, and he exercised that talent not only on her, but with Phoenix Wright. That trial had been so full of opportunities to throw that vile man in prison, where he belonged, but Edgeworth and Wright's mutual trust persevered to the bitter end, when the defense attorney had to make a choice.

And she knew what it would have been if she had not been there in time.

She had gravely underestimated the power of the human conscience and its raw sense of justice.


	7. Lest You Become One

**Prompt: **"Be careful when you fight the monsters, lest you become one."  
**Character(s): **Phoenix Wright, mentions of Kristoph Gavin  
**Originally Written: **12.31.2008  
**Notes: **Major spoilers for AJ. Also, I'm not going in chronological order – at least, I attempt to do so, but I end up overlooking something I had written before that. So yes, forgive any mixups.

Phoenix Wright still considered himself a person who stood for justice. He refused to let Kristoph take that trait away from him as he reaped the benefits of his barring. Oh yes, Phoenix did see beyond that 'friendly' smile, but nobody else did. Apollo didn't, at least. But he couldn't blame the young lawyer; Gavin was a very convincing actor. Only a keen eye would be able to catch the act and see the script that ran behind his glazed eyes.

But there was something else, too. Phoenix knew that Kristoph was not the only one to blame.

Even though he went about his life as usual, he could feel the relentless darkness trying to consume him—the twilight of cold-hearted revenge. Phoenix would freely admit to himself that he'd have his revenge on Kristoph at any turn, no matter what it would take. Few things had taken priority over that task. Only Trucy and finding the means to survive and give his daughter the things he never had were above it.

But he wasn't about to admit to himself that in the back of his mind, he knew that he'd become exactly like Kristoph if he continued on this path. Maybe not as crazy, of course, but altogether sharing the same principles. Under the clever guise of 'justice,' Phoenix would continue drawing up the perfect revenge. And the guilt he would feel would be a small price to pay.


	8. Clemency

**Prompt: **"Always forgive your enemies, nothing annoys them so much."  
**Character(s): **Miles Edgeworth  
**Originally Written: **2.24.2009

He did indeed believe that the route to truly getting back at your enemies was merely to forgive them. It had worked with Wright, to be sure; their reconciliation had been lost in less than pleasant events, but all the same, it had started with forgiveness.

But after the gruesomely haunting events of Hazakurain, Miles Edgeworth resolved that forgiving enemies went well beyond what was expected. Diego Armando, the defense attorney turned prosecutor, had abandoned his personal vendetta against Wright for the sake of Maya's purported forgiveness. While it was easy to see that it was for the benefit of his own agenda, he was due some credit.

He supposed that clemency cleared the mind much more effectively than hatred. Hatred consumed until there was nothing left; compassion left one with a clean conscience, no matter what they had done before.

Perhaps it was ridiculous, but it worked for him; it seemed as though his enemies despised him even more.


	9. All Work And No Play

**Prompt: **Working  
**Character(s): **Phoenix Wright, Maya Fey  
**Originally Written: **2.26.2009

"Nick…"

"Maya, please, you've been doing this for the past half hour. There's this thing called 'work' that I need to do."

He didn't have to turn around to know she was pouting like a child who wasn't getting her way. He sighed dramatically and continued to sift through the obscene piles of paperwork, ignoring her pleas to escape from the stuffy offices. The summer thus far had been god awfully brutal, and he was sacrificing his rent on his apartment just to get air conditioning in the office.

She draped herself over his shoulder, closing her eyes and frowning. "Come on, aren't you dying in here?"

"Whether I'm dying or not has nothing to do with the fact that I can't just leave whenever I want." The heat wave inexplicably grew stronger now that she had thrown herself onto him.

"But if you die, then you'll _never_ be able to take me anywhere!" she whined before eyeing a stray pile of papers. He suddenly knew what her intentions were as she smiled mischievously.

"Have some self-control! You can wait another hour, can't you?"

Her lip _wibbled_.

"Maya…"

Oh no.

"_Maya…_"

This was ridiculous.

"Fine, fine!" He shoved the pile of papers away, glaring dangerously at the spirit medium. "I won't get _anything _done at the rate you're going."

She smiled, chalking this up as yet another victory on her part, seeing his annoyance as an admission of defeat. "You'll thank me for this later, Nick."

He managed a smirk in spite of himself. "When we don't have air conditioning thanks to you, sure."

The look of horror on her face was enough to satisfy him.


	10. Words Of My Own

**Prompt: **If Only  
**Character(s): **Lana Skye, implied Gant/Lana  
**Originally Written: **3.3.2009

Fragments of memories cross her mind when she least expects it.

She doesn't want to remember anything, of course, but it's inevitable that she would in her position. There's little else to dwell on _besides_ memories in such a drab place.

His face would flash across her eyes, his voice resounding in her ears. Those kind words, that seemingly genuine laugh – they were nothing more than tools to reel her in, to earn her trust.

She truly believed that she had been smart enough to see people's lies, and yet, she couldn't see through the façade of the person who had been out to deceive her until it was too late.

If only she had been more insightful, more on guard. If only she hadn't been so taken with him. If she had been stronger, she would've been able to avoid all this disaster. She would've been able to be there for Ema. She would've been able to reciprocate all the faith everyone had placed in her.

If only, if only…


	11. Unease

**Prompt: **"Dear You –kind-" by Yukimiya Hinaki  
**Character(s): **Pearl Fey  
**Originally Written: **2.27.2009

"_The warmth would always stay by me  
__I was a child who didn't suspect anything.  
__I swallow my tears and bite my lip  
__So I can laugh that I've gotten stronger."_

If she really was a child, then she shouldn't have been so acutely aware of what she had lost.

She knew that people commented on the fact that she took everything that had happened to her in stride, but that meant nothing. If anything, it served to prove that her coverup was efficient in deterring people from probing into her true feelings.

The few things she had left to hold onto had almost slipped away, and she had been powerless to prevent it.

She hadn't been upset over the fact that she was young and had little standing in Kurain until those events occurred. Pearl was nothing more than an instrument to her mother and Dahlia's plans, and she had nearly killed the only person she truly cared for.

People truly thought that she was naïve and mature at the same time, but she could only be one, and was merely obligated to fake being the other. In a perfect world, she could reveal her true self to even Maya, but that world existed only in her dreams. Should she even consider it, the darkness of doubt would be set loose in her mind, and that wasn't something she could afford.

She forced herself to keep believing, not only for everyone's sake, but for her own.

* * *

She had been blind to the obvious tragedy that was embedded in her past, but she dearly wished she could stay that way. As a child, she had always believed that the next day would be brighter, the future more welcoming than it used to be. Why couldn't she be that little girl anymore?

Had it been her fault? Had it been her mother's? Why did she have to grow up so fast?

Pearl wanted nothing more than to stay innocent, free from the bondage of age. Time, it seemed, waited for no one, bringing a completely different kind of pain with it. Perhaps she had more freedom now, but that paled in comparison to the responsibility that came with it.

She smiled anyway, and maybe she could convince herself to truly feel content with herself. It was, after all, the only thing she had left.


	12. Isn't This What You Wanted?

**Prompt: **Lonely  
**Character(s): **Miles Edgeworth, Maya Fey  
**Originally Written: **3.4.2009

He wants to be alone.

He's aware of what Maya Fey thinks of this, but he resolves that he deserves to make his own decisions, even if they're not the wisest course. He couldn't see why she had such a problem with his decisions; if he thought anyone would object to them, it would be Wright.

Coincidentally, they were both returning to their homes after that trial and their encounter at the courthouse was supposed to be brief, but things eventually took their own direction.

"You're leaving?" she had asked, voice laced with bewilderment. "Why would you do that?"

He was merely surprised by the fact that Maya had cared at all, even if her reasons were valid. In retrospect, she had saved his life, and he had saved her from an uncertain fate in prison. Still, to think that she had the audacity to pry into his life was angering.

"Yes, I am."

"But you can't leave! You and Nick—"

"Whatever happened between Wright and I is none of your concern."

Her face twisted into something between betrayal and shock. "How could you say that? You're the reason Nick wanted to be an attorney in the first place!"

Edgeworth turned to her, not knowing whether his expression was particularly cold or not. "That has no bearing on my own decisions, Miss Fey." He found himself unable to be rid of the mildly nagging guilt that proceeded to settle in his conscience, no matter what he said.

Her voice had dropped, something that was surprising even for Edgeworth, who didn't know her particularly well. "But you're not alone anymore, right? Isn't this what you wanted, Miles?" she asked, and he focused not on the question, but that she had bothered to use his given name. She likely didn't even realize it, but her hands were clasped together, pleading for him to listen. But she doesn't wait for his answer before continuing.

"I know what it's like to be lonely. It makes you feel unwanted, like no one cares. Right? And that's how I felt before I met Nick. Even if I had my family, I was isolated from everyone else, and I hated it." She paused, collecting her words. "No matter how hard I tried to convince myself that I was okay, I wasn't."

He could do nothing, save for staring at her. He hadn't thought her capable of such deep introspection if first impressions meant anything.

"That's why you can't leave! If you go now, we might not be here when you come back. _If _you come back…A-And you might not like me, you probably even hate me because of what my mom did. If you're even listening, you won't remember what I've said." Maya managed a small smile. "You don't have to keep being alone. You might think you're better off being lonely, but it'll come back to haunt you."

He wanted to listen to her words, because he knew damn well that she was speaking the truth. His minimal pride was intact, however, and he couldn't do anything more than to briefly consider them.

Truly, Maya Fey was a great deal more experienced than she had let on.

The words didn't come out as he intended, but he didn't have the thought to revise it. His expression was likely stiff and unwelcoming, buthe knew his words were soft.

"Thank you, Miss Fey," he said quietly before walking away.

He didn't look back.


	13. Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

**Prompt: **Pretending To Be Together  
**Character(s): **Klavier Gavin/Apollo Justice (kind of)  
**Originally Written: **3.12.2009

The gasps they—well, _he_—earned were imminent, even if Apollo couldn't have seen anything coming from a mile away. There was no way he could go out in public again.

Klavier Gavin had kissed him in front of the entire country.

Apollo had been too appalled (not to mention too heterosexual) to even think of reciprocating, but Gavin had seemed intent on making him feel a thousand different types of uncomfortable.

And that seemed to include shoving his tongue in places where it didn't belong.

He had stumbled back, too traumatized for words. He wasn't sure what to be more upset over; the fact that he had just been kissed by another man or that said man wasn't looking too guilty about it. In fact,Gavin seemed to be rather pleased with himself as the girls and paparazzi beside them stood, dumbfounded at this new revelation.

"My apologies, _Mädchen, _but I'm afraid that I'm taken," he said with mock drama, taking Apollo's violently shaking hand. "Isn't that right, _Apollo?_"

Words failed him. He wasn't sure if he should do Klavier a favor and play along or get the hell out of the public eye as fast as he could. He'd make an even bigger spectacle out of himself if he ran, but things could've gotten worse if he stuck around. Much, much worse.

Why couldn't things ever be easy for him? Why did these things always have to happen? Apollo tried to block out the incessant squawking from the reporters ("How long have you and Klavier been together?" "What's your name?" "How did you two meet?") but their voices seemed especially trained for annoying the fuck out of people.

"Gavin, what the _hell_ were you thinking?" he whispered harshly into the prosecutor's ear, barely resisting the temptation to stomp on his foot. His counterpart merely laughed and caressed his hand, looking directly at him with those mischievous eyes of his…

Oh lord, did his heart actually _skip_ a beat?

"Just do me this small favor, Herr Justice," he said. "And I promise it will blow over soon, _ja_?"

Apollo was conflicted. The more rational part of his brain pleaded for him to go with his better instincts and leave, but with Klavier making that insistent puppy-dog face, it was beyond difficult to just do what he wanted.

"F-Fine," he grumbled, gripping Gavin's hand. "But you owe me. _Big time_."

"Yes, yes."

He suspected that he wasn't even listening.

And he sure as hell isn't listening now when Apollo insists that the charade has gone on for too long.

Needless to say, the night ends with a fair bit of trauma as Klavier imposes himself on the attorney once more.


	14. Say Anything

**Prompt: **Office  
**Character(s): **Neil Marshall/Ema Skye  
**Originally Written: **3.16.2009  
**Notes: **Oh yes, you read the pairing right.

You're in the office.

The more instinctual part of your mind is goading you on to say _something_ that would make Ema Skye feel even more guilty. You know that she's absolutely horrified, confused, and a variety of other emotions. The last thing she needs right now is guilt.

Your vision is fading and the sharp pain in your chest has dwindled down to a faint discomfort. You're going to die soon, and you just can't be anything you should be; desperate, terrified, hysterical. You take a sharp breath.

"Say anything," she quietly pleads, but you won't. You never do.


	15. What The Walls See I

**Prompt: **Insomnia  
**Character(s): **Apollo Justice  
**Originally Written: **3.8.2009

Apollo can't sleep.

He can't fathom why, exactly. All he knows is that the blessed periods of slumber are short and laced with nightmares, the kinds that make you grip your sheets and shut your eyes, trying to forget the fear that they induced.

The nightmares are strong, yes, but the most disconcerting thing about them is that they are all but fleeting; Apollo can't even remember who was in them or what happened.

But for the most part, he can't sleep.

At first, he thought it was because the apartment was too hot, mostly because he kept tossing the sheets and when the morning came, a thin coat of sweat was formed on his forehead. It continued even after he turned the air conditioning up to the highest setting; in fact, it came to its peak at the fever pitch of Vera Misham's trial. Perhaps those nights were understandable, as the truth was hard to digest, but the condition persisted even after things settled down.

There's an element about this whole 'condition' of his that's utterly embarrassing. How can he tell someone that he hadn't had more than three hours of peaceful rest a night in months? He can't. The stares that he receives from the Wrights when he shows up to work, groaning and cursing, are better left unanswered. It doesn't matter, Apollo keeps telling himself. Of course, he knows as well as anyone that it does matter.

Between the nightmares and the lack of sleep, he's not sure what's real and what's fake, whether he's going crazy or he just needs to relax. God, if he could do that, he'd be the most docile guy around (when he didn't need to be on the offensive).

He's sick of the sleepless nights, the ones where he's forced to think of all the mistakes he's made. If the insomnia lingers, what will he do? Once he's catalogued every insignificant event in his life, what will be left to validate him as a person?

What will he think about? Hell, will he even _want_ to think about anything after pushing himself down to a new low?

It's almost pathetic, too; with all the extra time not being able to sleep, Apollo would typically get some work done. If his body wasn't going to agree with him, he might as well make it useful.

But more often than not, he is paralyzed from even leaving the bed, as though staying there might give him the slightest chance of rest. And so, he has forced himself to memorize all the unimportant nuances of his room; the small crack towards the bottom of the wall by the TV, the peeling wallpaper in the corner where the bathroom is, how the fan slows down every five minutes or so.

He hates this. He hates it, hates it, hates it. It makes him lash out at everyone when they didn't do anything wrong, it makes him say things he doesn't mean. It's eating away at him, and he thinks he just might die if this goes on.

Apollo folds his arms behind his back and stares blankly at the ceiling; the walls are beginning to close in around him, and for a good reason. They're the sole witnesses to this travesty of a disability.

They're trustworthy, in a sense. It doesn't matter what the walls see anymore.

He's given up.


	16. What The Walls See II

**Prompt: **Panic Attacks  
**Character(s): **Klavier Gavin, Apollo Justice  
**Originally Written: **3.16.2009

He has to give himself some credit for this.

It took some time to finally recognize when they were going to happen, and he's developed some talent in concocting excuses to disappear from the public eye for a few minutes.

But there's the nagging feeling that he should tell someone. It would be disastrous; the shame he felt for succumbing to such a pitiful condition as this simply couldn't be amplified by drawing attention to it.

For the first time in Klavier Gavin's life, he is shamed.  
-----------

He doesn't remember when they first started, but when he thinks about some of the situations, there was no real trigger. If anything had been stressful, it had been something that he would've been able to deal with in the past. They had never been extreme, never resulted in injury like some did.

But nothing can compare to the feeling of imminent death, the tightness in his throat, the desperation as he rushes towards the bathroom in the courthouse to allow this attack to pass. The effects will stay with him until he goes home, but he can't let anyone see him like this, not now.

Klavier feels something sour—_bile?_—work its way up to his throat, acidic and stinging. He throws himself against the wall, gripping his head, trying to make this _go away—_

"Hey, pretty boy, court is reconvening now! Get your ass out here."

The air is cold and thick as he swallows, denying that the voice he heard just now was Detective Skye's. He can't leave now, he can't let people see him like this. He sinks to the floor, unable to quell the raging pain in his head; the horrifying sense of helplessness beginning to consume him. He can't do this, he's going to die alone and in shame.

The walls are taunting him, inching closer, closer, until they possess the space that Klavier so desperately needs. They take on the voices of everyone he holds dear to him, whispering things that he knows they'd never say.

"_How pathetic! He can't even control himself…"_

"_He thinks he's so _special _because of these little episodes. What a brat."_

"_He's forcing himself to do this so he can just do it in public for attention one day. Like a little kid acting out for attention."_

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Why couldn't these damn voices go away? He never heard them before, and he didn't intend on starting to hear them now—

"Hey, Klavier! Are you listening to me? Hurry up!"

Her voice is beginning to pull him away, and he wants her to keep talking, but save for inaudible grumbling there's nothing.

A bead of sweat courses down the side of his face and he grips the sleeves of his jacket, faintly hearing the door open before someone is at his side, repeating his name with increasing worry.

Black has never been so menacing a color.  
----------

For once, he's silent.

Apollo is asking him what's wrong, what happened, why he was in the hospital. He can't work up the courage to tell him what had occurred (it's none of his business anyway, he tries to tell himself). God, he just wants everyone to _go away_ and leave him be.

"Klavier, whatever happened, it's nothing to be ashamed of," the attorney points out awkwardly, shuffling his feet. He's suddenly preoccupied with his bracelet.

Why does he have the feeling that Apollo knows more than he's letting on?

He's rendered useless for the time being, but he's grateful that only the walls know his darker secrets.


	17. Slipping Away

Spoilers for _Trials And Tribulations_ ahead.

**Prompt: **Regret  
**Character(s): **Misty Fey (Elise Deauxnim)  
**Originally Written: **3.21.2009

Why was this happening? Why did things turn out this way?

Misty Fey didn't want this. She had made many mistakes in her life, but in her final moments, the one she regretted the most was not being able to tell her only child – her beloved Maya, the one she should've been there for – goodbye. She should've done this not as a stranger, but as a mother.

Her psyche, in its dreary state, was faintly aware of the horrors occurring around her. The malice of the spirit that was possessing her was too strong to overcome.

How she regretted everything.


	18. Observation

**Prompt: **Observe  
**Character(s): **one-sided Miles Edgeworth/Maya Fey  
**Originally Written: **3.21.2009

He doesn't want to stumble over his words every time he speaks to her (but he does).

He doesn't want to appear as someone who can't keep his composure together in her presence (but he really can't).

He doesn't want to watch jealously as she clings to Wright with a more-than-friendly air of affection (but he observes as quietly as he can, anyway).

He doesn't want to be so awkward in the entire 'love' ordeal (but God knows he is).

In fact, Edgeworth doesn't want to love Miss Maya Fey at all, period.

(But he does. Oh, how he does.)


	19. Tipping The Scales

**Spoilers: **Major spoilers for _Apollo Justice_ within. You have been warned.  
**Prompt: **Sad(ness)  
**Character(s): **Lamiroir (real name used in the story)  
**Originally Written: **3.17.2009

She knew that her life was in shambles.

It pained her beyond belief to watch her children move about their lives, laughing and crying and going through all-too-familiar motions while she was forced sit in the background. She knew that she could always just come clean and reveal the truth, but they would despise her; they would shut her out from their lives forever.

Thalassa wished with everything she had that things had taken a different course—if they had, maybe she would be with her children without restrictions. The scales of fate were delicate; the slightest thing could tip them. Perhaps if she hadn't said something, hadn't look a certain way, her entire life would be completely unlike the one she led now. She was spared the torture of going through every action she made during her life, but at times that was even worse than knowing.

The tears she once shed no longer hold any meaning.


	20. The Rise And The Fall

**Spoilers: **Major spoilers for _Apollo Justice_. You have been warned.  
**Prompt: **"However beautiful the strategy, you should occasionally look at the results."  
**Character(s): **Kristoph Gavin  
**Originally Written: **3.26.2009

Everything had been so perfect. It was the most beautiful of plans, the most well-constructed strategy he had ever conceived.

And everything was ruined by the one person he thought would stay in the dark. He hadn't expected a nervous, inept attorney to suddenly piece everything together – even if he knew that it was thanks to Wright. He knew he had been taking a chance when he executed this,but he didn't think that the results would be so pitiful.

Rest assured, he wouldn't let them keep their glory so easily. He would rise once more and never fall again.


	21. Serious Business

**Prompt: **Play  
**Character(s): **Miles Edgeworth, Maya Fey  
**Originally Written: **3.31.2009

"_What are you doing?"_

"Miss Fey, please don't screech into my ear like that."

"You used the key for the wrong room!"

Edgeworth raised an eyebrow. If he wasn't doing something right, _Maya_ of all people wouldn't be able to tell. Then again, knowing her overall personality and childish obsession with things like these, it was likely that she knew more than he did.

"Then please be so kind as to show me what to do," he said doubtfully, handing her the controller. She snatched it from him without a second thought and plopped herself down on the floor beside him.

"First we have to reset it, thanks to you just rushing in doing whatever you wanted."

Interesting, considering that was how she thought in real life. He said nothing as she reset the game, heading through the rooms with surprising speed and skill. Once she had gotten the key, Maya moved to where the supposedly right door was and entered.

"There," she said. "I don't want to do everything for you, okay? I'd prefer to have someone good to play with." She smiled and handed him the controller.

He sighed.


	22. The Little Things

**Prompt: **Park  
**Character(s): **Maya Fey, Phoenix Wright  
**Originally Written: **4.14.2009

She doesn't want to forget.

The sun is setting, the sky an open canvas of purple and yellow as they sit down on the park bench. She thinks she looks tired after everything that's transpired in the last few weeks, but he hasn't said anything about it.

She knows he would.

Maya knows that this could be the last time she ever sees Phoenix again, but she doesn't want to let go of the little things that they managed to give each other. She had been taught that everything was intertwined, but she doesn't know how to untangle herself from the mess that she calls her life.

Maybe it really will be better for her once she goes back to Kurain and sets up the kind of life she was supposed to be living in the first place; a life bound to tradition and haunted memories. She holds back a sigh and looks at Phoenix, who seems to be particularly focused on opening a can of soda.

"So you're going back to Kurain in a few days," he says carefully, still trying to avoid her eyes.

"Yeah. Plenty of stuff to do before then, right? I wish I could stick around for Mr. Gramarye's trial, but…" Maya momentarily trails off, managing to finally look at him. He had finally gotten the can of soda open, but he's apparently uninterested in drinking it. "I think…that if I stay longer, I'll never leave at all."

Phoenix sets the can down next to him and folds his hands together neatly in his lap, clearly trying to think of an answer that won't make her cry. She can sympathize – it's a difficult task at this stage in the game.

He breathes and hazards an answer. "Nothing's ever final, you know."

Her heads lifts the slightest bit and she's listening more intently now. "That's weird for you to say."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"But anyway, like I was saying…"

Maya abruptly stands from the bench and gives him a long, indecipherable look before smiling softly and asking, "Let's go home. I'll even let you hold my hand."

He raises an eyebrow but stands and takes her hand in his. "Ah, what the heck. It could be the last time we see each other."

"Don't say that! You'll never forget about me and you know it."

They walk home hand in hand, and everything is so perfectly broken, beautiful in the way life creates meaning out of ruin.

She could almost cry.


	23. faith is optional

**Prompt: **Change  
**Character(s): **Maya Fey  
**Originally Written: **6.14.2009

She never was accustomed to patterns.

Everything about her was haphazard and hastily thrown together; she didn't subscribe to any particular way of living her life. She used her heart more than her head in deciding what path to take.

Things that are used too much will eventually break.

* * *

She no longer had naïve hope to cling to. There was nothing to believe in, nothing to spend her faith on. Her soul was tired, tired of drifting and waiting for destiny to come sweep her off her feet. It had stayed just out of reach, subtly luring her onto a monotonous path of a predetermined life with the promise of change.

It had instead taken everything she loved away from her.

Evil was bored with the good people fading away and watching the world waste away. She had promised herself that she would never become passive in the ways of the world and stop believing in what benevolence could accomplish. Her heart was young when she made that promise, young and vivacious.

Her spirit was worn and tattered and the promise of her youth had long since been invalidated.

* * *

She saw herself in Pearl, right down to the smile and endless hope she wore so openly on her sleeve.

Perhaps she should have been afraid for herself, but at that point she realized that there simply was no returning to the person she once was. She was fearful for the young girl; the process of realizing all hope was false was painful.

She had resigned herself to a life of loneliness upon hearing of Phoenix's disbarment but hadn't relied on the fact that it would be so final. She had wanted to believe that it would be possible to reinvent the life she used to possess, but things had irrevocably changed.

Maybe hope was fear wearing a veil of optimism.

Foolish, withering optimism.


	24. my forever means nothing

**Warnings: **Incest.  
**Spoilers: **Major spoilers for the end of T&T. You have been warned.  
**Prompt: **Watched  
**Character(s): **Dahlia Hawthorne/Maya Fey  
**Originally Written: **6.16.2009

Dahlia came to her in dreams.

It would begin as ghostly, unintelligible whispers before her image appeared amidst the darkness, altogether disgusting (and _horrifically alluring_).

"Little cousin, everything could have worked out if it weren't for you," she would taunt, tracing along her jawline with a (much too real) finger. "But who could blame you? You were nothing more than a pawn, after all."

_A pawn. _She wouldn't bother trying to deny the truth. She wanted to push the demoness away, but ghosts are ghosts even in dreams.

Dahlia would lean in, lips brushing against her ear, and say, "But pawns have their worth, you know. If one uses them correctly, they can crush everyone else." Her eyes would regain that (vaguely familiar) predatory gleam and she would grip her hand, thumb skirting over her fingertips.

She couldn't bring herself to protest, to say anything against a much stronger force. There was no equal power on the plane of dreams, as much as people liked to attest to the contrary.

"Oh, aren't you afraid? Your beloved sister isn't here to help you now."

_Yes, I'm afraid, _she would think, pursing her lips tightly. Dahlia would back away, looking at her indulgently (lust entrenched in her eyes) before hovering above her lips and giving her a condescending smile.

"I'll always be watching you, Maya," she would murmur harshly. "And you will never be rid of me."

(And she never was.)


	25. remembering barcelona

**Prompt: **Barcelona  
**Character(s): **Juan Corrida's mother (OC)  
**Originally Written: **6.17.2009

She had always believed that he would come back to them someday.

His phone calls home spoke of promise and reassurance – _"Don't worry, I'll come home soon" _– but there had always been a nagging feeling embedded in her heart that told her not to fall into those assurances. It was no easy feat to take a break from a career that refused to stand still.

Madina wondered if he remembered Barcelona.

It would be reasonable to assume that all of his memories had faded away; they had moved to America when he was all of five and moved back when he was old enough to make the (painful) decision to stay. Nonetheless, Madina remembered his childhood well. What a lively child he was! He could never stay in one place for very long.

He had changed when they moved to America. He grew increasingly self-important and competitive, leaving all those he deemed unworthy behind him. He relied on others for his identity and became dejected when they didn't give him attention. She supposed that this was what had led to his fierce rivalry with that other boy, the rivalry that would end in his demise.

Would things have changed if she raised him differently? Would he have been the same child if he grew up in America to begin with?

The streets of Barcelona were haunted in her eyes.

Yet the children still played, oblivious and unassuming, until their parents called them home.


	26. a man of class

**Prompt: **Pride  
**Character(s): **Shelly de Killer  
**Originally Written: **6.19.2009

After the mishap months before, de Killer knows that style must never be sacrificed for anything.

In retrospect, he might have been taking a larger risk than he initially realized by accepting a request from someone _(a traitor, a liar) _whose chances of being implicated as the murderer were very high to begin with. It had made things messier than he anticipated and it smeared his otherwise flawless record.

He hasn't allowed a small incident such as that one to wound his pride, however, and all he took away from it was a learning experience. If anything, he took comfort in the fact that the woman had not been wrongly punished, regardless of his original intentions.

He is a de Killer and pride is all he has.


	27. there are ghosts here

**Prompt: **Vengeful  
**Character(s): **Celeste Inpax  
**Originally Written: **6.25.2009

Monsters and ghosts were as real as any living, breathing thing. They blended in amongst people, cleverly disguising their vendettas as normal human affairs. When people were convinced that they knew the monsters – that was when they struck.

They killed the body and tortured the soul.

The ghosts became bitter and rancorous, vowing to bring about the monsters' demises. They would wait just beyond the realm of the living, watching until their enemies eventually succumbed to the humans' relentless thirst for justice.

And they would be haunted.

Even with all this said, Celeste does not consider herself vengeful.

(Much.)

She knows that she haunts his nightmares. She is his last regret, the last thing that ever silenced him. She simply cannot bring herself to feel (_as if her feelings are real anyway) _anything when she thinks of the pain that has been passed along between the four people involved in such heinous affairs.

Her last regret is Adrian; simple, unassuming Adrian had been tainted by misguided evil. Celeste had been her shield, the one to hold her hand whenthe icy reality of the world took its toll.

Had her soul been stronger, she could have stayed alive and they would be happy. So consumed with being abandoned by the two monsters was she that she hadn't seen the gift that had been given to her.

The deep ache that is embedded in her spirit will be with her for all of eternity.

That is why she feels no guilt when the monster she is haunting can't sleep (_there is always something watching him)_.

Celeste is merely returning a favor.


	28. commoneo I

**Prompt: **(Auto)biography – Free Choice  
**Character(s): **Ema and Lana Skye  
**Originally Written: **7.1.2009

My childhood was happy.

Don't get me wrong; we had our fair share of skeletons in the closet. Every family does. And my parents died when I was young, so I was left to Lana, but other than that my life growing up was pretty good.

Good things don't last, though.

I'm not really saying that to garner sympathy or anything; it was just an unfortunate turn of events that led to the state of things today.

And there is still that one thing that stands out in my mind…that one incident that will forever stay ingrained in my memory. It's the kind of thing that most sisters take for granted and don't realize how much it actually matters until much later. I remember it all so distinctly, and I guess that's why I'm so weak whenever my mind drifts into that memory.

I don't think I was older than seven or eight at the time when Lana had gathered me into her arms and told me the story of how Mom and Dad met.

"Mom and Dad were so different from one another, you know," she told me, laughing. "I never understood how two people like them could end up together."

"So how _did_ they end up together?" I asked, quirking an eyebrow with the skepticism that children are credited for.

"I'm getting to that, don't worry. But just so that you know, Mom was a very carefree woman. She hardly ever let things get to her and she didn't agree with Dad being so uptight about everything. It's still a mystery how she somehow managed to make him turn to mush whenever she wanted."

I pinched Lana's nose with my tiny fingers and giggled. "Daddy was just like you then!"

She smiled, saying in a nasal voice, "You think so?"

"Yeah! You're always so serious about everything."

That probably hurt her in a way that I, at my young age, couldn't have realized. She mistook that for an insult and couldn't see that it had been innocent. Her own innocence had been lost while she was still so young that she was incapable of comprehending the ways of children. Lana couldn't understand the shamelessness of youth or how they would say things before they thought of what they meant.

"Well, anyway, Mom and Dad worked in the same hospital. Dad was a surgeon and Mom worked for their morgue—"

"What's a morgue?"

She sighed, not enjoying the constant interruptions. "It's a place where dead bodies are kept before they're buried."

I nodded and she continued.

"It was a few days before Christmas, two years before I was born, when Dad was operating on a man who had gotten into a car accident. Glass shards were embedded in his heart and it was too dangerous for them to try and take them out. While Dad and the other doctors were trying to figure out what to do, the man died," she told me carefully, making sure that nothing was too heavy or difficult for me to understand. "Dad was so torn up about the incident that he left work just a couple hours later when he was supposed to be staying the whole night. Mom wasn't very well acquainted with him at the time, but she had passed by him when he was getting ready to leave."

It was all very hard for me to follow and I could barely grasp what she was telling me, but it was a story about my parents and I was desperate to feel like I knew them. That was reason enough to pretend that I knew what Lana was saying.

"You know what Mom did? She just patted him on the back and said, 'If it weren't for guys like him, I would be out of a job. Don't worry too much about it.'"

She began going on about the course of Mom and Dad's relationship, but she began to speak more to herself than to me. I suddenly began to ruminate on the possibility of Lana leaving me like my parents did. She would never leave, would she? In my eyes, she was invincible. She could tackle any obstacle that came her way. She would scoff in the face of Death.

I pressed my head against her chest and told her, "Please don't leave me, Sis."

She was surprised; she hesitated before pulling me closer.

"I will never leave you, Ema," she whispered.

Even after everything that's happened, I know she has never once left me.


	29. fragility of goodness

**Prompt: **Descension  
**Character(s): **Maya Fey  
**Originally Written: **7.14.2009

She wasn't confused, but she wanted to be.

She knew that things had taken a turn for the worst when Phoenix's sigh sounded more than slightly defeated. It was tired – much too tired for a man who had everything going for him.

"Phoenix. Please tell me what's wrong."

She had surprised herself by saying his name, something she hadn't done in months. It felt so strange, so foreign on her lips that it left a bitter aftertaste.

(Still, if there ever was a time for bitter feelings, it was then.)

"I was disbarred."

She gripped the phone until all the blood left her hand, until she was certain that the receiver would shatter if she tightened her hold on it just a little more.

She opens and shuts her mouth in a constant motion, a false comfort in the wake of his confession. She can't think of a single thing to say.

She wanted to be surprised, and she was utterly heartbroken when she wasn't.

(Why did the good always fall?)


	30. when she loved me

**Prompt: **"When She Loved Me" by Sarah McLachlan  
**Character(s): **Mia and Maya Fey  
**Originally Written: **8.5.2009

"_When somebody loved me, everything was beautiful  
__Every hour spent together lives within my heart  
__When she loved me."_

The bus ride is more painful than she anticipated.

She thought that she would be happy to have this opportunity, but all it's leading to at the moment is a dull despondence – it's more prominent than any other feeling she has, anyway.

She closes her eyes, hoping for sleep to come and relieve her of the guilt, but nothing – not even slight drowsiness – comes over her. Maya's face, betrayed and wounded, is etched into her mind and it simply _won't leave_.

She's almost afraid that she's going to forget that face.

Regret has always been a close friend of hers, but never has it been so prominent and nagging as it is now. She had adopted the responsibility of raising Maya when their mother left, but did she really raise her the right way? Did she neglect her need for affection?

Mia is the kind of person who draws confidence from herself.

Maya is not.

She tried to give Maya the warmth of a mother, but in the end she couldn't even give her the love of a sister.


	31. commoneo II

**Prompt: **(Auto)biography  
**Character(s): **Adrian Andrews  
**Originally Written: **8.16.2009

It's only now, in the quiet moments that I have to myself, that I can reflect on how far I've come without being ashamed of what occurred in the past.

Throughout high school – no, even middle school – I was a very withdrawn child. I spoke only when I was spoken to and didn't have anything to say. I wouldn't venture to call myself better than my peers, but their actions spoke for themselves.

Dyke. Lesbo. The hair pulling, the slaps, the crushing of glasses…those things come rushing back to me at the strangest of times. I would wince, shake my head as though the thoughts were so easily thrown away, just to be rid of that agonizing sense of shame. I didn't feel right in my own body, and by simply existing, I was something to be ashamed of.

It's hard to stay warm when there's nothing but ice surrounding you.

For the longest time, I couldn't rise above it; I begun to cling to those who I knew would keep me safe. I wasn't Adrian Andrews; I had no idea what possessed me to call myself that, because I was no one. I was defined by everyone else, and there was me, a shell of a human being.

The turning point, I believe, was when I met Franziska von Karma. It's a shame that we're no longer in contact, but I remember with such overwhelming vividness the things she told me during Matt Engarde's trial. I can't particularly judge whether or not those comments had benevolent intentions behind them, but they changed me for the better.

The shame of my past is replaced with good faith in all that I've learned, as excruciatingly trite as it sounds.

Inhale. Exhale.

I am no longer a shell.


End file.
